Page 60 of Beautiful Place By the Sea

“This.” I gesture between us. “Whatever is happening right now. We can’t.” I shake my head again, as if convincing myself. “We work together.”

Oliver’s eyes sweep across my face, assessing. “Okay.”

“Okay?” I ask.

He looks at me quizzically, still breathing quicker than usual from the fervor of our brief makeout session. “I’m trying to respect your boundaries. Isn’t that what you want?”

Words catch in my throat as I’m about to respond. Yes, I want my boundaries to be respected. And we definitely can’t do this.

But some not-so-small part of me really wishes that we could, and it hurts a little to see him agree so readily.

So I settle for, “Yes, thank you.” And then, “Thanks for coming out with us tonight.” I force a smile. “It was fun.”

He returns the grin. “It was. Surprisingly so.”

A door slams shut in my mind. “And there it is.”

Oliver looks taken aback. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

I roll my eyes. “The insults, the cynical banter. It was missing this evening. But now it’s back, with your suggestion that it was a shock to enjoy my company.”

“I already told you I enjoy your company.” His face is impassive.

“That was when you wanted to get in my pants,” I joke.

“You’re not wearing pants,” he teases.

“Oliver.”

He wrinkles his eyebrows over his nose. “So you think I’m the kind of person who would lie to a woman just to seduce her?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I say quickly.

He takes a step backward toward the porch stairs and crosses his arms. “Then what did you mean, exactly?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry. It’s been a long night, and I’m pretty drunk.” The high from whatever was happening between us a few moments ago is rapidly disintegrating.

“I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a liar,” Oliver says earnestly. “I enjoyed spending time with you tonight, and I kissed you just now because it felt like what we both wanted, not because I was trying to trick you into bed with me.”

“Okay, fine,” I reply, swiping a damp curl off my forehead and wishing this conversation were over.

He’s looking at me intently now, as if trying to determine whether I believe him. I guess he finds what he’s looking for, because he takes another step away from me and toward the walkway. “I’m going to head home,” he says.

My heart lurches a little. He looks genuinely sad that I thought the worst of him. “I really am sorry,” I promise. “I had a nice time with you tonight, too.”

Oliver shoots me a small smile. “Of course you did. I’m a great dancer.”

I snort. “You’ve got that right.” I want to wipe away the lingering look on his face that suggests I’ve deeply insulted him, but I don’t know how. I settle for uptight courtesy instead. “Good night, Oliver.”

“Good night, Ivy.”

I watch him walk away, thinking about how good it felt to kiss him, how nice it was to be held again after being alone for so long. After being rejected, made to feel like I don’t matter.

How bad it would be if I’d let him continue and things went south. How I can’t afford to mess things up at the bookshop; how my heart can’t take another humiliation like what happened with Kyle. And how I don’t want to sully my love of this beautiful place with a mangled hookup.

I nod as Oliver fades into the night, reassuring myself that I made the right decision. And then I unlock the door and go inside, feeling surprisingly hollow despite it all.

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